For a while, the mood seems to lift in Anna’s house. Lucy and McGovern appear around nine and gifts are piled under the tree. I start mixing eggs and flour and work it all together with my fingers on a wooden cutting board. When the dough is the right consistency, I wrap it in plastic and start looking for the hand-cranked pasta machine Anna claims to have somewhere as I jump from thought to thought, barely hearing what Lucy and McGovern are chatting about.
“It’s not that I can’t fly when it’s not VFR conditions.” Lucy is explaining something about her new helicopter, which apparently has been delivered to New York. “I have my instrument rating. But I’m not interested in having an instrument-rated single-engine helicopter because with only one engine, I want to see the ground at all times. So I don’t want to be flying above the clouds on crappy days.”
“Sounds dangerous,” McGovern comments.
“It’s not in the least. The engines never quit in these things, but it pays to always consider the worst-case scenario.”
I begin kneading the dough. It is my favorite part of making pasta, and I always refrain from using food processors because the warmth of the human touch gives a texture to fresh pasta that is unlike anything agitating steel blades can effect. I get into a rhythm, pushing down, folding over, giving half-turns, pressing hard with the heel of my good hand as I, too, think of worst-case scenarios. What might Benton have believed was the worst-case scenario for him? If he was thinking that his metaphorical Last Precinct was where he would end up, what would have been the worst-case scenario? This is when I decide he didn’t mean death when he said he would end up in The Last Precinct. No. Benton of all people knew there are far worse things than death.
“I’ve given her lessons off and on. Talk about a quick study. But people who use their hands have an advantage,” Lucy is saying to McGovern, talking about me.
It is where I will end up. Benton’s words shine my mind.
“Right. Because it takes coordination.”
“Got to be able to use both hands and both feet at the same time. And unlike fixed wing, a helicopter is intrinsically unstable.”
“That’s what I’m saying. They’re dangerous.”
It is where I’ll end up, Anna.
“They aren’t, Teun. You can lose an engine at a thousand feet and fly it right down to the ground. The air keeps the blades turning. Ever heard of autorotating?You land in a parking lot or someone’s yard. You can’t do that with a plane.”
What did you mean, Benton. Goddamn it, what did you mean ? I knead and knead, always turning the ball of dough in the same direction, clockwise because I am leading with my right hand, avoiding my cast.
“Thought you said you never lose an engine. I want some eggnog. Is Marino making his famous eggnog this morning?” McGovern says.
“That’s his New Year’s Eve thing.”
“What? It’s against the law on Christmas? I don’t know how she does that.”
“Stubborn, that’s how.”
“No kidding. And we’re just standing here doing nothing.”
“She won’t let you help. No one touches her dough. Trust me. Aunt Kay, isn’t that making your elbow hurt?”
My eyes focus as I look up. I am kneading with my right hand and the fingertips of my left. I glance at the clock over the sink and realize I have lost track of time and have been kneading for almost ten minutes.
“God, what world were you just in?” Lucy’s light spirit turns to lead as she searches my face. “Don’t let all this eat you alive. It’s going to be all right.”
She thinks I am worrying about the special grand jury, when ironically, I am not thinking about that at all this morning.
‘Teun and I are going to help you, are helping you. What do you think we’ve been doing these last few days? We’ve got a plan we want to talk to you about.”
“After eggnog,” McGovern says with a kind smile.
“Did Benton ever talk to you about The Last Precinct?” I am out with it, almost accusing in the fierce way I look at both of them, then realizing by their confused expressions they don’t know what I am alluding to at all.